Dec. 22nd, 2005 11:39 pm
aunthippie: old hippies in tie dye (kittyspaz)
Streets that are within a mile or so of my new place: Gay Terrace and Witch Path. I dunno but that sounds like my kind of neighborhood. ;)

One and a half rooms painted with one coat. Much thanks to P for providing company and tall.

Furnace isn't turning on and couldn't get hold of anybody who would know why/how to fix it, but it was 55 in there, 60 with two people moving about and then creeping back into the low 50s as it got OMG ASS COLD outside. Would have been 2.5 rooms, except the color that was supposed to be parchment with a bit of a honey tone to it (to pick up the honey-stained hardwood floors) was not the color purchased [by the landlord, so it's not like he can flip out on it], and the front room is instead butter yellow. It has been dubbed the Creamery, and said color shall not be continued into the next room. I am in fact fond of butter yellow, but I will concede that it's a bit much to have both rooms shining with artificially dyed dairy goodness. So, possibly the pear color that I had wanted for the bedroom, in that room, and the manly pink dusty rose left over from Snark House in the bedroom- it's a color that I can deal with sleeping in, but not so much sitting around in. Also, it would look ghastly with my futon cover.


I like typing that. I have been up for 19+ hours for the 4th day in a row and it is starting to tell.

Ghastly ghastly gay terrace!

There is an excellent 50s diner very nearby which is presumably open except never when I am driving past it. I am pondering the wisdom of painting tomorrow AM, with Dangermouse in tow, and still no heat but at least the potential of getting someone who can make it go to swing by. Except, well, Dangermouse in tow + paint + no heat (although my antiquated ass will probably suffer more than a hyperactive preschooler will).

Sleep now. Think tomorrow.
aunthippie: old hippies in tie dye (tea)
I got a call from the school at about 10:30 this morning, from the nurse. I can hear screaming in the background as she tells me that Dangermouse lost her grip on the swing chains and shot off it backwards, landing head first on the packed ground (yeah, she missed the loose rocks) and that she may have concussed herself. Throw on decent clothes, speed down to school, locate nurse's office by tracking the crying, which is audible as you walk in. Pile of sobbing child launches itself at my neck as soon as I get in the door and continues wailing inconsolably into my shoulder while the nurse gives me the checklist of danger signs after a concussion and I try to pick up all of her things with one hand.

I ask her if it scared her, she cries "yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!" and then launches into "mom, we go hooOOOOOOOOOme!" followed by more incoherence. Then I asked if she wanted to go home and watch cartoons and have eyeball pudding. (Tapioca. Don't ask.) The screaming stops dead, she lifts her tear-stained face off my shoulder, looks at me, and says "No. Chocolate pudding."

I'm pretty sure she's ok. *grin*
aunthippie: old hippies in tie dye (Default)
I decided to take advantage of the gorgeous weather and had breakfast (chai and a cigarette, close enough) out on the patio. Of course Little Magpie cannot remain indoors if anybody else gets to be out, so she and Jaimey came out too and we spent the morning playing "how many balls can we throw into the pond?" Definitely one of my favorite games. *roll eyes* She managed to dive headfirst off of the patio and land on the terrace step (3 inches down) and is now sporting a lovely gash over her left eyebrow.
Thank goodness her bangs are thick enough to cover it. Between that and all the scratches the cat has given her in the last week, she looks like she's been sandblasted. Of course, does she learn not to play with the kitty? Nope.
I'm taking the kids to the park later, so maybe she'll be content to eat wood chips and avoid any more tumbles.


aunthippie: old hippies in tie dye (Default)
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